


Put a Hydrospanner in the Works

by DachOsmin



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DachOsmin/pseuds/DachOsmin
Summary: In the aftermath of the missions that go wrong, Cassian needs a warm body to anchor him in orbit. Paying for it simplifies things, until it doesn't.





	

The latest blockade run is an utter disaster, for the rebellion in general and Cassian in particular. They’ve lost four of their best pilots, three to death and one to a worse fate in the bowels of Imperial Intelligence. Cassian is lucky; he makes it out of the firefight with nothing but whiplash and the screams of dying friends in his ears. Really lucky.

He holds himself together in the transport back to the base through sheer force of will, one leg bouncing like it’s trying to separate from his body the only sign he isn’t quite whole.

As soon as Cassian gets back to his room he’s gathering credits with shaking fingers and running towards the pilots’ hangar. There have been more nights like this than he can count, nights he needs the rage and the fear sucked out of him, and by now he knows what to do. In all the horrors he’s seen and tragedies he’s authored, hiring a prostitute falls fairly low on the scale.

There are the other nights too, the ones where he’s free-falling and soaked in sweat about the things he’s done and the lives he’s taken, and will do anything to forget. On those nights it’s him on his knees in shadows of the base, and he’s not the one paying. The slap of credits thrown across his face and the press of a cock in his mouth, hands knotting in his hair- these are the things that help him forget, that pull his thoughts away until it’s all gone, and he’s just a body to be fucked. That’s a comfort, sometimes. But not tonight.

He walks into the hangar lounge, his hands already clammy with sweat. A good number of the pilots are there watching an old holovid on the main screen. The lights are low and the holo flickers blue over their skin in the dark. They look like ghosts.

He shuts the door a bit louder than necessary, just enough to draw attention. And sure enough heads are turning his way, first in annoyance at the intrusion and then in understanding when Cassian offers them a tight lipped nod and heads towards the back of the lounge. He stops in front of the door to the hangar and keys the code in, the chirp of the buttons painfully loud in the silence of the room. The door opens with a whoosh of air and he steps through it, into the main hangar. He doesn’t check to see if anyone is following him. He doesn’t need to. Pilots take care of their own.

Cassian doesn’t know who it will be, of course. Perhaps Tashic, who has a tongue like an angel, or Evi and her wicked grin. That’s part of the fun. He lets the excitement build in the pit of his stomach as he twists down corridors of stacked equipment and bends under the wings of the ships.

He stops in the far corner of the hangar, the shadows of the planes swallowing him like a cloak. Leaning back against the cold steel of the wall he waits for his partner to catch up. He watches as the shadows peel away, revealing a masculine form, and then the planes of the man’s face.

Cassian recognizes him immediately- a kid named Idric from the outer rim. He lets out a breath, slow and shaky. It’s not that Idric isn’t gorgeous- he is. He has the sleek muscles you get from lugging around fifty pounds of mechanical equipment all day; he’s got the fine cheekbones you get when you’re born with them. And it’s not because he isn’t good on his knees, either- his mouth is a dream; he sucks cock like he’s worshiping at an altar.

But- and it’s a massive but- he’s got a crush on Cassian roughly the size of Coruscant, and Cassian doesn’t have it in him to play gentle tonight.

Idric pauses a few steps away, regarding him with hopeful eyes beneath his mess of blond curls. He doesn’t speak though. Kid has some sense at least.

Cassian bites back a sigh. Maybe he should just send Idric away. He could go back to his room, where he’s got lotion and his own hands, where he won’t have to worry about hurting anyone but himself. But then again he already feels like he’s itching out of his skin, and he doesn’t think he can survive the walk back to the barracks without breaking down in front of whoever happens to be passing by.

So instead he nods gruffly. “Credits are in my pocket. I’ll pay you after, standard rate.”

A gentle laugh and blast, is Idric blushing? “You don’t need to pay me-”

“Yes I do,” he says, harsher than he means to. Because if he doesn’t pay, it won’t be a transaction anymore. Or it will be, and he’ll have to pay in something other than money, something he has precious little of left.

Idric hesitates, bites his lip. “Okay,” he says at last, ducking his head in a nod. “That’s okay, too.” He moves towards Cassian like he’s approaching a wounded animal, all telegraphed motions and soft steps.

Cassian stands still as he comes closer, hands stiff at his sides. He closes his eyes at the first brush of calloused fingers on his chin, lets out a hiss as they slide over the chapped skin of his lips. He feels like a porcelain statue, something that might break at the lightest touch. “Idric-“ he bites out, though he doesn’t know what it is he wants to say.

Idric cuts him off with his mouth, soft at first and then harsher, harder. The edges of his gentleness curl back to reveal something darker, the kind of need Cassian is all too familiar with. There’s desperation in each push of his tongue, like there might be salvation or oblivion on Cassian’s lips that he can suck away. Their teeth knock together as they fight for the kiss, Idric’s bite scraping at the corners of his mouth. Cassian feels himself giving in, falling under.

Idric pulls away to regard him for a moment, and there‘s triumph there alongside the lust. He holds Cassian’s eyes as he sinks to his knees, slides his hands down Cassian’s thighs.

It’s a sight straight out of Cassian’s teenage fantasies: Idric kneeling between his feet, looking up through his messy bangs. The planes of his face cast red by the hangar maintenance lights. The wet shine of his bruised lips, slightly parted.

Cassian swallows the lump in his throat and reaches down to smooth his hand over the flutter of the boy’s neck, lets his hands skim north over cheekbones and temples. Idric closes his eyes and leans into the touch.

“Cassian-“ he whines.

Stars, but this kid deserves so much better. “I’m not paying you to tell me my name,” he says, shame sharpening the words.

Idric flushes, the dull red just barely visible in the dark. He opens his mouth to reply, thinks better of it- and leans forward instead, holding Cassian’s gaze as he mouths at the bulge in his pants, lips obscene against the orange of his jumpsuit.

It’s so cruelly short of what he needs, but the faint touch is all he has, he clings to it even as he’s a hairsbreadth away from begging for more. He would beg, at this point, if Idric made him. But Idric doesn’t have a dissembling bone in his body and before Cassian can find the words to ask, he’s already reaching to the fly of Cassian’s pants.

Idric’s fingers are clumsy on the zip of his pants, as if he hasn’t done this a thousand times before. As if it’s still special and new. Idric doesn’t remove Cassian’s pants- there’s no time for that, and it isn’t that kind of date. Instead, he pulls them down to pool around Cassian’s knees, leaving his thighs bare. Cassian closes his eyes and leans his head back against the corrugated metal of the wall. It’s cold against his skin.

The first trace of Idric’s tongue is the lightest of touches, whispered like a secret along the underside of his cock. “Tease,” he hisses, and yeah, he can imagine the way Idric is looking up at him through those messy bangs, a smile hovering on his lips.

The second touch is in earnest. Idric wraps his lips around the side of Cassian’s cock, planting open mouthed kisses up and down the shaft. Cassian’s breath hitches at each touch; it’s been so long since he’s done this, allowed himself anything but the furtive jerk of his hand in a room full of men graciously pretending to be asleep.

The kisses turn sloppy and wet, saliva coating his cock as Idric moves from kisses to laving stripes of his tongue. Cassian brings his fist to his mouth and bites down hard on his knuckles, muffling but not silencing the broken moans that Idric is wrenching from his throat. It’s good, so good- but he needs more. “Idric,” he moaning around his fist “Idric, I-“

Idric takes him in fully, at that, his cheeks hollowing in accommodation, his eyelids fluttering shut as Cassian’s cock hits the back of his throat. Cassian can’t help but scrabble at the shelf next him, accidentally knocking over a haphazard stack of spanners, but he can’t bring himself to care. Everything is heat and pressure, and Cassian isn’t sure of the noises he’s making at this point. “Please,” he’s gasping, and hell, he’d said he wouldn’t beg but- “please, Idric-

And then Idric’s hands are digging into his hips and he’s being pulled closer, his cock pulled deeper. Cassian opens his eyes to watch dumbly as Idric fucks his mouth with Cassian’s cock, the muscles of his neck working to swallow the length deeper and deeper with each thrust.

Idric’s mouth is puffy and cherry red around his cock, and Cassian is seized with the desire to pull Idric to his feet, bite at his lips, drag gasps from them, see them wide open as Idric shivers on his back, ankles around Cassian’s shoulders and hands knotted in his army regulation sheets. To hell with his roommates, they can join in. And he almost suggests it- but the credits are a lead weight in his pocket and though he knows Idric would come back with him for little more than a smile, he doesn’t have that smile to give.

Instead he reaches down and knots his fingers in Idric’s hair. As Idric moans in encouragement, he pulls his head forward and bucks up into the heat of Idric’s mouth, gently at first and then more roughly. His concentration is already shot, and before long he’s jerking forward in abandon, hips snapping and knuckles white. Idric, his eyes sheened over with tears and his lips a mess of spit and precum, takes it all without protest, lets Cassian use him as a warm hole to fuck.

The pressure builds in tandem with his moans until his orgasm hits, lighting him up like a thermal detonator. He comes like a broken man, his head slamming back against the hangar wall. Idric pulls his mouth away with a wet pop as Cassian’s thighs buckle beneath him and he slides down to the ground. He’s vaguely aware of soft hands carding through his hair, murmuring him through the aftershocks.

Taking a breath to steady himself, he pulls together the courage to look up at Idric.

The boy is looking at him with steady eyes. It’s not the sultry look of a whore, but a studying look, like he’s memorizing the constellations of Cassian’s face to remember in a time without stars. The wantonness of it, the flush of his cheeks and the cum on his lips falls away, and Cassian sees that Idric is swaying towards him like a flower to the sun. He could bridge the gap if he wanted to, pull the boy up and hold him close, kiss the taste of semen from his lips and ease the fear that’s still lurking in his eyes. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he pulls the credits from his pocket and tosses them; they hit Idric in the chest like blaster fire.

As Idric crumples to count them, Cassian stands up, zips his pants, and walks away.

***

He hears through the grapevine that Idric dies on a mission a month later. The kid was flying reconnaissance on Jedha with the rest of the squadron. He tried to do a barrel roll through a canyon and pulled up too late, hit his primary thrusters on the rock and lit up the fuel supply like a Nabooian firework display. It’s stupid, so stupid. But that’s what you get when you give children a ship and a dream and tell them they can make a difference, he figures.

The night after the memorial service he heads to the hangar bay, his pocket full of credits.

 


End file.
